


Weapon

by KarkaHatchlings



Series: Guild Wars 2 Interstitial [10]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Conversations, Ethical Dilemmas, Fluff, Gen, Mad Science, Rare Characters, Technobabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarkaHatchlings/pseuds/KarkaHatchlings
Summary: Scholar Krasso approaches Professor Gorr to discuss his weapons-building program.





	Weapon

The hand he used to pull his hair into a topknot was smooth and soft.  Too soft, he reflected as he slipped the pin around it again. It was the hand of a researcher, an archivist, even.  The latter descriptor might be more appropriate, given his current hosts. The hand and its twin certainly weren’t the hands of someone who, he considered with characteristic modesty, had helped save Tyria for the time being.

The thought returned him to the matter at hand.  Well, the other matter; he straightened his hair again, repairing the last of the damage done by sleeping at his workbench.  The demands of appearance satisfied, he had to refocus his attention to the designs he was working on.

Weapons, killing machines, implements of mayhem and murder, the designs littered the benchtop, vying for space with scale models and a working prototype.  Gorr frowned and picked up the oblong box to turn it around. That one wasn’t directional, but having it pointed at him still made him nervous.

“Professor,” the low, forceful voice, close at hand, nearly made him drop the deadly device.  He juggled it for a moment until the unexpected newcomer reached out to steady it.

“Careful, there,” Krasso helped guide the pleasantly blinking prototype back to its place on the benchtop.

“Oh!” the professor was still recovering from being startled, but as ever didn’t lack for words, “it was perfectly safe, it wouldn’t discharge.  I think. And if it did, it only dissolves living tissue in a narrow height range.” The range was between the height of a small progeny and a tall charr, but that was beside the point.  And it was a narrow range on the universal scale, at least.

The other asura nodded in understanding.  As far as labs went, that was an acceptable risk.  “After-action reports,” the Priory representative brandished a handful of flimsy papers scrawled in a dozen different styles of penmanship, most still curled from transport by messenger birds, “from the cleanup forces in Orr.  You’re doing good work as always, professor.” Her appearance in his lab didn't herald a social visit.

"Hm," he looked back at the desk, brow furrowed in uncertainty, "well."  Krasso set the sheaf of messages down, seeing he wasn't going to take them.

The slap of the Durmand scholar's broad feet against the bare floor sounded behind him, circling his stool, rather than departing.  She was tenacious, he had to acknowledge, and he, probably not very good at hiding how he felt. "I've already gone through them," Krasso supplied, though that hardly needed saying, "they're mostly positive.  Your work is saving lives, just like your discovery of the dragons' thaumaphagic..."

"Enchanto-consumptive," the correction was automatic.

"...properties brought the existential threat to everyone's attention," continued the woman without missing a beat.

One of the messages had slowly rolled back into a tube, lifting from the stack with a soft crackle and rolling across a design for an improved aetheric gas bomb.  Gorr pinned the brown-stained page down gingerly with one clawed fingertip, then nudged it back in the direction it came from. "It's not that," he sighed, resting his receding chin in the other palm.  His wide, thin-lipped mouth turned down unhappily. "I read the last batch. A great many accolades from strangers, and a great many requests."

"That's in part what I wanted to talk about," the scholar agreed, "while I can't exactly characterize the situation on the Cursed Shore as 'in hand,' the Priory and Pact have needs elsewhere.  Your work has slowed, somewhat."

"We're fighting on all fronts.  Against the minions of Jormag, against the Branded," continued Krasso, finally coming to a stop next to the professor, "you don't need to be a historian to know what usually happens in multi-front wars.  The fight is expanding, changing, and we need to keep up. The Vigil's foundries and our workshops are ready to put together anything you invent."

Gorr sighed miserably, closing large green eyes like that might shut out the demands.  "I know," he protested, settling down into the collar of his stiff mantle, "it's just...  Well, I'm used to working at my own pace..." A peek at the other asura's skeptical frown showed him she wasn't going to be satisfied with that response.  Why would she? She knew there was only one work speed in the Colleges: breakneck, often literally.

"Alright," he met her questioning gaze, then rifled through the messages she'd brought, picking one almost at random.

"'Professor!'" he read aloud, "'you'll be glad to know I'm still alright, thanks to your polarizer.  I've fallen in with a guild now, but haven't forgotten the fight against the dragons, of course. Anyway, don't let that dried-up old stodge Kra--er..."

"Ahem," quickly he skipped down the page in a bid to defuse the scholar's deepening scowl, "where was I... 'work you too hard...'  Hm, here, ah, 'hey, that reminds me, do you have anything that works on krait? The live ones, I mean. They can be a real pain in the ears to fight sometimes.  Sincerely, Mippa.' I suppose that's the end."

"Which one was she?"  Krasso raised an eyebrow fearsomely.  Her robe's long grey sleeves rustled as she folded her arms tightly.

"The excitable one with the rather disconcerting lack of regard for the dividing line between life and death," described Gorr, then hurriedly added a more positive note, "she was really very nice otherwise."

A sharp nod showed her recognition, "right, the one with the small ears."  She hardly had room to talk, but he wasn't about to point that out.

"But nice!" he repeated inanely.  The professor vacillated a moment before he recalled his own point.  "However, you see what she was asking for. I'm not just a swordsmith; I design things to fight the dragon's minions."

"The krait hinder our forces wherever they can, you know," countered Krasso, "and they're vile creatures besides."

"Not the best example," Gorr waved away that weakness in the argument, "but next it'll be norn or something, Svanir who haven't been corrupted yet.  And then you'll need something indiscriminate!"

"This thing," he rapped the prototype on his desk smartly with his knuckles, "that's the reason it's here for redesign, not being produced.  It doesn't care what it dissolves, Peacemaker, bandit, Flame Legion soldier, husk, it's all the same."

"Destroying the Risen," he pointedly avoided the word "kill," "helps save this world.  It makes other people safer, it lowers the rate of enchanto-consumption, and it's probably a mercy for the poor things besides."

"While this," an overly expansive gesture knocked the device almost to the tipping point on the edge of the workbench, setting off a scramble by professor and scholar to keep it from tumbling to the floor.  It chimed innocuously at the handling, some of the lights changing from a friendly pink to a cool blue. "Uh, still safe. I think. As I was saying, people would keep using this until there was nothing of the appropriate height to use it on."

"And, well, that would be worse than people using an anti-Risen weapon until there was nothing left to use it on," he added lamely, "for obvious reasons."

The Priory member listened patiently, nodding.  "You're a good man, inventor, and scientist, professor," she arranged the compliments in ascending order, "there aren't many who think quite that far ahead, and that's something to admire.  Preserving knowledge and carrying it forward to the future is one of the tenets of our order."

"But," she held up a thick finger, the rebuttal finally in the offing, "even I have to acknowledge that application is going to win this war, not just facts and figures.  We're in a position where a future to pass that knowledge on to isn't assured. Today has to be won, and we'll fight for tomorrow after it's ours."

"So please," the scholar touched Gorr's shoulder lightly for a moment, "help us."  The professor listened to her footsteps receding over the Priory flagstones, and then he was left with his weapons.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in /gw2g/.
> 
> A non-canonical conversation between canonical characters. This was written for Professor Gorr's #1 fan.


End file.
